PORN: A Novel of Extreme Horror, Sex and Gore

by Matt Shaw

  For a split second his expression showed nothing but confusion. Had the sleep given him the opportunity to escape from the warehouse? Can’t have that. He screamed again when he realised where he was. Another scream when the pain kicked in.

  “Who set up our film?” I asked him, shouting over his own screams.

  He didn’t answer me. Not sure he even heard me.

  “I said, who set up our film? If it wasn’t my agent…Who?”

  He started to laugh through his tears. “I’ll never tell you.”

  I smiled at him. “Yes. You will.”

  I threw the bucket towards the corner of the warehouse. Won’t be needing that again. I reached down to the bag of goodies I’d brought with me and pulled it open; revealing the insides to Harry. His eyes widened with fear. The result I was hoping for.

  “Do you know how your friend died? We’re getting to that part of the story and - if you know - I guess we can skip it?”

  I reached into the bag and pulled out a small butt-plug.

  “What are you doing?” he wheezed through the pain he was already experiencing.

  “You need to loosen it up first. A little. It makes it easier when we put bigger things in. And - trust me - we’ll be putting bigger things in.” I smiled at him. “Thinking about it, you should be thanking me.”

  “Just kill me…”

  “I will. When I’m ready.”

  “Please.” His eyes were rolling in the back of his head. Maybe I shouldn’t have started with his testicles. Maybe I should have started a little gentler? Worked up to things like that. Things which are going to be a distraction to what I have to tell him.

  “Don’t interrupt me.” I paused a moment to collect my thoughts. “Right, where was I…Okay…Your friend…Your leading man…Did you find out how he died? I’ve been busy…Not sure if the reports made the papers. Having said that, did his death even make the papers? Maybe he’s still rotting where I left him?” I started to laugh.

  “Fuck you!” Harry wheezed.

  I smiled again, “You already have. Remember? And now you’re potentially HIV. Your last fuck. Your last wet pussy. A poisonous pussy. One you created. You and your leading man. And it started in the ass.” Still didn’t answer my original question though.

  I reached under Harry’s smashed testicles, with the small butt-plug, and round to his anus. He tried to shift position but couldn’t. He was mine. The restraints made sure of that. Free of lubrication, I pushed the small toy into his arse. He winced. I smiled at his discomfort but - inside - I couldn’t help but wonder who had sent that email. Who’d set me up?

  THE MOST REQUESTED GIRL

  I filmed a scene, with both Richard and Darren, the day after they’d invited me back. The first scene had been so Richard, the producer, could see what I was like at giving a blow-job. The second scene we’d filmed together had me riding Darren as he sat on the settee he’d been on the day before, when I had him in my mouth.

  I’m not sure whether it was Richard’s easy laid back manner which put me at ease or the fact my nerves were calmed with the previous day’s shoot (and dinner with the rest of his film family) and I didn’t care. I just remembered showing up feeling good and ready to go; ready to impress. And I must have impressed him.

  A couple of days went past, after the shoot, and I received an email from my agent offering me another job. A different producer. Apparently this producer was acquainted with Richard and had been impressed with footage he’d seen. The job on offer was a girl-on-girl scene. It would be my first liaison with another woman.

  The taste of the girl on my tongue, as the director asked me to eat her out, was unusual - I remember that much - but not entirely unpleasant. Would I do this without pay? I’m not sure. Hard to say. The feeling of her fingers stroking inside me - hitting my g-spot with perfect precision, though, as her tongue lapped greedily at my clitoris when we changed position. Would I do this without pay? Definitely.

  Another day and another shoot. Still nothing unusual asked of me. I’d heard the stories, from Richard, of what could have been asked and I guessed I was lucky to avoid such requests due to my look. Young and innocent. Doesn’t really open the door to the more unusual of demands. I had spent some time, between shoots, watching various videos on the internet - easily found with a search on any of the main sites - all based around darker fetishes. All the girls who appeared in them - they seemed to have a different look to me. Older, for one. Not necessarily unpleasant to look at but…Definitely older. Definitely more…Experienced. Maybe these were the requests which would come my way in years to come if I were to still be in the industry? Would I even still be in this industry in years to come? Perhaps these emails and phone calls offering me jobs - perhaps it’s just beginner’s luck? Maybe my career will be over within a couple of weeks. A few months and it’ll be nothing but distant memories and a slightly loose vagina?

  Make the most of the jobs whilst they’re coming in.

  During these weeks, months, I didn’t turn anything down. Whatever the job, I accepted it and worked it like a seasoned pro despite being new to the industry. Some even commented on my professionalism but I just laughed it off.

  “New ladies usually need a little more coaching,” one had commented.

  All that time in drama school, trying to get the necessary experience to become an actress. Had I wasted so many years when - all the time - I could have just gone into this? Saved the tuition fees (which I’ve yet to pay back)? I simply smiled when someone made a comment and thanked them. Richard once said people keep requesting me because I’m genuinely nice. Apparently you didn't get a lot of that in this industry. Instead, he said, it was saturated with bitchiness and egos. Part of me wondered whether I was being requested because of this or because I was good at my job? Maybe they wanted me just because they knew I’d be easy to work with? No drama on set. I don’t know. It also made me question his feelings for me again - just as I had done when he asked me out to that dinner. Was it because I was a business colleague or because he liked me? Maybe both. Not sure. Never know.

  I spoke about it - what Richard said - to my manager once. He told me not to question it all the time the jobs were coming in. He warned me that - sometimes - careers in this industry could be short-lived.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he laughed.

  Of course he’d say that. He’d want the cut of my fee for all the jobs that were coming in and - if careers were to be short-lived - he’d want to get as much as he could before my time came to an end. I didn’t mind though. That’s the way the cookie crumbles and all that. And I said ‘yes’ to every text and phone call and email that came in. I never had any reason to doubt him, or the messages themselves.

  I’d played the part of a babysitter a couple of times; once I seduced the husband of the child I was meant to be looking after and the other time I had been the one who was seduced. I’d been seduced by the bored next door neighbour - the lonely housewife looking for a little fun. Sometimes that role would be just me and the lady. Other times the role would be the two of us and then her ‘husband’ when he walked in and caught us. He acts surprised, we act shocked and then - next thing - we’re all squirming and writhing around, sucking and fucking and probing. I’d done the school girl role a couple of times too. The step-sister is probably the weirdest role I’d done. I just felt it was a little incestuous. I had to walk into the room where my step-brother was wanking himself into my underwear. I had to act shocked, disgusted even, but then I had to calm down and offer to give him a helping hand. That film was a POV shoot. POV being ‘point of view’. The camera was his eyes watching me as I tugged him off; letting him ejaculate onto my bared breasts.

  I was flattered I was getting all the work. It was nice to be wanted. Especially after getting neglected as a ‘real’ actress for so long. Turned down audition after audition after audition. There’s only so much rejection you can take but now, here I was, the tables turned - people wanted me. All of the
m using my previous films as auditions. I just had to turn up and do what was asked.

  And then THE email came in; the one offering me your job. Well - not quite explaining what you wanted - the email read as though it was a standard job; one of the ones I was used to getting.

  * * * * *

  I was toying with the plug in Harry’s asshole. Gently moving it back and forth, twisting it around ever so slightly. I think - had it not been for the state of his balls - he might have enjoyed the sensation. Most men do yet they’d never admit it. Not the done thing. As it was – because of the pain he was busy hyperventilating and whining like an injured dog.

  “Did you compose the email?” I asked him. Looking at the state of him, it was clear I wasn’t going to get any sensible answers from him anymore. That’s fine. He can just listen. “Not important, I guess. For all I know it could have been done by the person who passed me to you…What’s important, though, is what happened next. Our meeting. I think it was two days later, if memory serves me correctly and you’ll have to forgive me if I am wrong,” I said, “I’ve been through a lot.”

  * * * * *

  I stepped into the coffee house and stood, a moment, in the doorway as I scanned the various faces sitting at the tables. It was the first time I’d met a director and actor in a public place and I suppose it could have felt strange had it not been for the fact I was told, over a quick phone conversation, that his office was currently being renovated. Who was I to question it? Thankfully two men had stood up and were waving me over to their table in the corner of the room. I smiled and walked over to greet them; hopefully the people I was looking to meet and not just two crazy fans who’d recognised me.

  “Harry?” I asked.

  Harry, a tall skinny man with dark hair and darker eyes flashed his perfect teeth when he smiled. “That’s me,” he said, extending his hand. We shook. “And - of course - this is Tom who you’d be working with.” Tom and I shook hands too. “Can I get you a drink?” Harry asked.

  “Coffee would be lovely,” I said - not wishing to appear rude.

  Harry nodded and headed towards the counter. I took a seat opposite Tom.

  “You know,” he said, “I don’t think his office will ever be finished.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I just think he’s addicted to these coffees,” he laughed, “seriously - we’ve been coming here for months. I’m surprised he doesn’t have his name plate, taken from his office, hanging on this table instead.”

  I laughed (more out of politeness).

  “Okay watch him. Maybe you could answer something for me,” he pointed towards Harry who was ordering a round of coffees.

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to decide whether it’s the coffee he comes here for, or that lady.”

  The girl behind the counter - the one serving him - was a pretty lady. Probably a couple of years older than me. She had red hair and - I think - green eyes. Her smile just as brilliantly white as Harry’s, a slender girl who looked great in the black uniform of the coffee house; no doubt one of those girls who’d make any outfit look good. I watched Harry converse with the woman. She seemed oblivious to the fact he was clearly flirting with her; smiling, leaning into the counter to get closer to her, joking around given the fact she seemed to be laughing with him. I wondered what he was saying - not that it was a long conversation as he was soon heading back to our table. He sat opposite me, next to Tom, still smiling.

  “What?” Tom asked.

  “Boyfriend,” Harry laughed. He took a sip from his coffee in a desperate attempt to hide his embarrassment.

  “Ah. Say no more.”

  I felt as though I were intruding. Our business seemingly less important than trying to score a date with the girl behind the counter. Hardly the most professional of beginnings to what could be a new business relationship. Richard really was a diamond in the rough then.

  “So,” Harry said, “you got the email.”

  Way to point out the obvious.

  “Yes,” I said - not wishing to appear as rude as he was coming across.

  “Well it’s nothing that out of the ordinary,” he said. “Reckon the whole thing will most likely take a couple of days to shoot although,” he continued, “that’s depending on how well Tom here performs.” He looked at Tom and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  “Have I let you down yet?” he asked.

  “Always time for a first.”

  Tom looked at me and smiled, “Doubt it’ll be this time.”

  Little bit of vomit at the back of my throat. I felt like standing up and walking out but - and it’s a reason I stayed sitting - I couldn’t ignore the money offered in the initial email. More money than I have earned so far. In fact, more money than three of my first films combined. Can’t ignore that.

  “So what sort of scenes are you thinking?” I asked. I wanted to know if there was a story or a link to the scenes - as present in some films - or whether it was literally a handful of scenes strung together with the two of us going at it.

  “Sucking, fucking - nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “No story?”

  “Ah - yes - story. It’s a superhero parody. You’ll be dressed in a tight latex outfit - you can email me your sizes later and we’ll ensure we have one ready for you - and he’ll be dressed in, like, a black rubber superhero costume. Like Batman without all the hood and shit. You don’t pay this much money for your actor to cover the face. People want to see the expressions when he’s going at it, you know.”

  The film sounded cheesy but it could have been a laugh. It would be nice to get dolled up into something different too. So many films in similar outfits - maybe, with people seeing me in latex, it could open the door for more opportunities?

  “It’ll be just the two of us?” I asked. I knew there’d be more than Tom and I present. There’d be a camera man, possibly a sound man (unless the camera had it’s own microphone), sometimes a photographer to capture some stills for the cover artwork, director (Harry in this instance), make-up (although sometimes the girls were left to do it for themselves) and maybe even a few more people milling around. I just didn’t know if we’d be the only people to be appearing on film.

  “Just the two of you.” Harry said with a smile. “Nice and simple that way.”

  “And what sort of scenes were you looking to shoot? Specifically?” I asked. So far I couldn’t see the justification for the high pay offered. I knew I’d slowly started getting a reputation around the circles but there was something about this deal which made it sound too good to be true.

  “Specifically? Well you’re going to play the villain. Cunt-woman…”

  I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Was he for real?

  “And - basically - he’s going to try and capture you. You know, take you to jail…BUT…But…You’re going to turn the tables on him and he’s going to end up tied to a table. You’ll be saying something along the lines of wanting to fuck him for so long…”

  Cliche, I thought.

  “And then you’ll start sucking him. Probably a little face-sitting as you pretend you’re going to suffocate him with your cunt - your trademark move for killing people - and then - BANG - you fuck.”

  I looked at Tom. He was simply grinning as he sat there listening to the ‘plot’.

  “Vaginal intercourse?” I asked.

  “Anal if you’re up for it.”

  It would’ve have been my first anal scene on tape. My first anal, to be honest. I squirmed in my chair.

  Harry noticed my comfort level had decreased, “You’d be squatting over him,” he said, “so you’ll be controlling the thrust and depth. Go as deep and slow as you want.”

  I knew the question of anal was going to come about at some point yet I still felt unsure about my feelings to it. In my private life it had never really been something which interested me. Sure I’d had people ask, before, but we’d never gone through with it. Usually I managed to put them off the
idea by changing tact to get them to finish the job too soon. I little smile on my face as I promised it to them ‘next time’. Most of the time, the thought of the act was enough to get them to the edge. With a little help from my mouth or hands they’d go spilling over said edge.

  “If you’re that against the idea, we don’t have to go for it. I’m not one of those guys who likes to pressure women into doing things they’re not comfortable with but - if you do - they’ll be an extra five hundred in it for you…”

  In my mind I was already running through various ‘tests’ I could do that afternoon, when I got home. Start small with, maybe, a finger and move up from there. If I liked it - I could try it for real on the shoot. If I didn’t, I could turn the extra cash down.

  “Can I think about it?” I asked.

  “Sure. Take as long as you want. We can always start with the other scenes and save that for last.” He turned to Tom, “You could always pull out and cum on her ass cheeks.” Tom nodded, still smiling.

  “The sex would need to be protected,” I said.

  “He has an up to date certificate,” Harry said. Most in the industry carried certificates with them to prove they were clean but I still didn’t like the idea of no condom. It was the one rule I promised myself never to break.

  “I’m sorry,” I went to say…

  “That’s fine,” Harry continued, “condom it is. We just want you to say yes. Would you be happy for him to pull the condom off before ejaculating? Maybe shoot his load on your ass or your breasts?”

  I nodded, “Okay.”

  Both Harry and Tom smiled.

  AN UNLAWFUL KILLING

  I’m not sure how long I had stopped talking, reminiscing about what had happened, before I came ‘to’. Harry was just staring at me, occasionally wincing from what must have been a hell of a shooting pain from his groin. I had been staring straight ahead, absent-mindedly twirling the small butt-plug round and round in his ass. I let go of it and it dropped, discoloured from both blood and shit, to the floor. I stood up and looked him in the eyes.